KISS'S POV
The music swelled through the ballroom, crystal chandeliers catching the lights like a constellation had fallen. Men in tailored suits and women in elegant gowns filled the dance floor. The murmur of conversation faded into the beat of the orchestra.
Adrian's hand rested lightly on the small of my back as we stepped onto the polished floor. His presence was a weight, grounding me.
"You look… perfect," he murmured close to my ear, his breath warm.
I smiled faintly. "Flattery won't save you tonight."
"Noted," he replied, voice low, teasing. "But I still see a man trying not to kill someone every few steps."
I laughed softly, leaning into him slightly. "Is that jealousy I detect?"
He smirked, but his eyes were dark, alert. "Caution. There's a lot of people here who might overstep boundaries."
I nodded, sensing his tension. He was on edge, and I knew why. The moment we had arrived, whispers had begun—men watching, women evaluating, and of course, someone else we both knew had shown up.
Chris.
I spotted him near the edge of the dance floor, eyes locked on me. And then, of course, Ashley glided in like she owned the place, her gaze immediately hunting for Adrian.
Adrian's jaw stiffened. I could feel his muscles tighten beneath my fingers.
"Stay close," he murmured.
I nodded again, adjusting my posture. Then the music shifted, slower, seductive, and the conductor gestured toward couples—partners would switch for the next dance.
Adrian looked at me sharply. "Stay with me."
I laughed softly, teasing. "You're impossible."
He grabbed my hand, bringing me to him. "I don't care."
The couples shifted, partners rotating. And in a move that made my heart pound like a warning drum, the man next to me bowed, and suddenly—Chris's hand slid into mine.
"May I?" he asked, voice low.
I froze. "Chris—"
"Just one dance," he whispered, eyes dark, intent. "I need to talk."
I looked over to see Adrian, pulling Ashley close as if to stake a claim, and a hot spike of guilt and exhilaration shot through me. I couldn't resist Chris, not with the moment hanging like a knife.
"Fine," I whispered, letting him guide me to the floor.
His hands were firm, pulling me close. His gaze burned into mine. "Kiss… why are you doing this?"
"Doing what?" I asked, feigning innocence.
He didn't loosen his grip. "Dancing with me, while he… while you're supposed to be his."
I hesitated. "For our friendship, Chris. Don't say things like that."
"What?" He growled softly. "Friendship? You're here with him, letting him claim you, and I can't—"
"Chris!" I snapped, slightly embarrassed, and the dancers' eyes flicked toward us. "For our friendship's sake, don't say things like that, or I'll never speak to you again."
He flinched slightly but didn't let go. "You think I'll let him—"
"Adrian isn't your enemy," I said firmly, keeping my tone calm despite the storm in my chest. "And this isn't the time or place to argue."
He pressed a hand to my waist, pulling me slightly closer. "Then tell me. Tell me you want him, because I can't—"
I shook my head. "Chris… no. This is just a dance. Nothing more. Don't test me."
The moment stretched between us—his intensity, my caution, the music like a heartbeat under our feet. I could feel his frustration, his need to fight for me, but I wouldn't let him cross the line. Not tonight.
Then I felt it—Adrian's eyes on us.
I glanced toward him, and my stomach flipped. Ashley's hand was in his, but his gaze was razor-sharp, zeroing in on me as if he could cut through everything and everyone else. The muscle in his jaw clenched.
The heat rising from his stare made my pulse stutter.
Adrian's voice came, low, tense: "Kiss."
I froze.
Chris leaned slightly, murmuring in my ear, "Don't do this to me. You know I care—"
"Stop," I whispered, stepping just enough to keep Adrian from seeing me too flustered. "Stop. For tonight, it's just a dance. That's all."
Chris hesitated, frustration visible in his eyes, but finally let me slide a little away.
Adrian's steps closed the distance faster than I expected. His hand lifted, gripping mine firmly, drawing me into his orbit. The ballroom seemed to vanish. Only him, only his eyes, only the tension between us.
"You think you can switch like that?" he growled quietly, leaning closer.
"I—" I began, but his glare silenced me.
"You don't," he continued, voice low and controlled, "understand what that does to me. You don't get to… play with me like that."
My pulse raced. "I'm not playing, Adrian! You're overreacting—"
"I'm overreacting?" His lips were dangerously close now. "You think I'll just watch someone else hold you while I stand here? Do you understand—"
His mouth crashed against mine, possessive, demanding. The world around us—the music, the chandeliers, the whispers—disappeared.
I responded instantly, arms winding around his neck, legs brushing his. He tasted like anger, desire, and warning all at once.
Chris's gasp behind us didn't even register. Ashley's presence was a shadow. All that mattered was Adrian, claiming, marking, needing.
Pulling back just slightly, his forehead pressed against mine, he whispered, hoarse: "You're mine, Kiss. Do you understand?"
"Yes," I breathed, chest heaving. "I… I understand."
His hand brushed down my side, holding me steady. "Good. Because anyone else trying to reach for you…" His eyes darkened. "They'll answer to me."
The music continued, oblivious to our storm, but I no longer cared. Adrian's heat, his dominance, his claim over me—it grounded me. Anchored me in a way nothing else had.
Chris's hand dropped from my back, reluctant, but he didn't retreat far. His expression was unreadable, shadowed with jealousy, frustration, and something else—something dangerous.
Adrian leaned down, lips brushing my ear: "Remember tonight. And remember this—no one touches you but me."
I nodded, swallowing the mix of adrenaline and desire coursing through me.
The dance ended, the couples realigned, and whispers spread. But Adrian's hand never left mine, and I knew, no matter the chaos around us, in that ballroom, in that moment—I was his.